


Two-Ten AM

by notbazluhrmann



Category: Ben 10 Series
Genre: Ben 10: Alien Force, Fluff, Or At Least I Tried, cause the alien force writers sure didn’t !!, gender neutral reader, remember when one of the aliens would get harmed ben would too after transforming back
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-03
Updated: 2019-04-03
Packaged: 2020-01-01 08:53:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18332744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notbazluhrmann/pseuds/notbazluhrmann
Summary: Promises, promises. What good are promises when an alien race threatens the peace of the world?





	Two-Ten AM

1:58. That was maybe twenty seconds ago, but your eyes flicker back to the clock expecting it to turn backward, hoping for it to not be the time it was. You pace across your bedroom carpet and watch as your feet make small dents in the fibers, toes parting away stained brown.  
Nothing comes to mind from where your feet are concerned, and instead you look back up at the clock still reading its post-midnight hour.

Ben promised he would visit you when his nightly exploits were up; as he had been showing up to school more banged up than usual, it didn’t take you long to put two and two together—the new watch that looked almost exactly like the old, the sudden inexplicable activity around town that was not unlike the stories he shared of his childhood summer road trip. You smacked him upside the head for not telling you, but most of all it was from a point of fear. You couldn’t exactly tell him to not search for his missing grandfather, but you couldn’t over-bare him with your safety concerns either.

Instead, you asked for promises. Promises were something Ben prided himself in keeping with you, so you trusted his smile when he promised not to let himself get too hurt, or to find himself too far from earth, but most importantly he promised to meet you at the end of every night to remind you he was alive and well, that you had nothing to worry about.

You worried, still pacing and looking at the clock across the room. It was two am now and his curfew was at eleven. Though he often stretched that with his mother from time to time he still never came home too far into the night. Maybe he would stumble through your window at midnight, at the latest twelve-thirty, but never has he pushed it this much.

Another quick set of steps around the room and you sigh, glancing at the clock again and reading the bright “2:02”. You still worried, you were still afraid, yet you decided to consider that maybe he went home half asleep forgetting his promise, that he was safe and just his regular doofus self. Clicking off your bed lamp light and falling into bed you remind yourself that this was an accident, that he would be there in school in the morning unharmed with homework half done, yet in homeroom he would tell you all about his crazy adventure while scarfing down a ziplock bag of cereal.

This calm dream nearly brought you to sleep before there was a clang at your window, proceeded by a knock and then what seemed like the sounds of the window opening. The idea makes you shoot out of bed, arms tense as you click your light back on and grab onto the heaviest textbook you could see. Before you could charge and attack, however, you realize whatever came in was a person in a familiar green jacket and jeans. You lower the book and rest your arms, but just as you’re about to scold Ben on his lateness you see that the fabric of his jacket is disastrously torn, and his jeans are just as bad.

“What happened!” you yell in a whisper, dropping to your knees just as he falls to his own, the rest of him nearly falling to the floor too until you reach out to prop him up. His eyes are closed, and soon he drops his head into your shoulder, arms wrapping themselves around you in an embrace. As they do you notice the scars through the torn fabric of his jacket, and the way he winces when his arms move themselves around you.

“The other guy was big, but I was bigger.”  
“ _Was._ ”  
He scoffs at your sharp tone and you slowly stand. His eyes open before he could fall onto his face but you also hold out a hand to help him up. As he stands you see the open wounds on his legs where his pants were ripped, and you lead him to sit on your bed inspecting the rest of his hurt physique. Hands trace over his wounded body eliciting a wince from every injury they touch, yet you harshly shush him in fear of the noise attracting any other attention from the household.

“You definitely don’t want to wake my mom,” you whisper, earning a light laugh that sends him into another fit of pain. At his smile, you smile, but when his face cringes you turn and sigh.

“Ben, there's definitely something wrong—,”  
“Tell me about it…” his eyes are still closed and he looks as though he’ll fall over and fall asleep. You reach up a hand to cup his cheek and quickly it’s covered with his own. “That's nice,” he hums, “warm.” in the lamplight you could see strands of his hair falling over his face. His smile is delicate, lips close to the inside of your wrist; it’s a wavering expression much like his half-lidded eyes, but you notice it’s not being interrupted by pain.

He’s tired, and you realize if he falls asleep in his seated position he won’t make it back out the window to go home.

“Ben,” your voice is like a song, and again he hums but he makes no real move to show he’s awake. His hand is still on top of yours, his eyes are closed, and his head is close to leaning against your stomach. “ _Ben…_ ” you say again, and the sound of a sigh escapes him as he opens his eyes. They’re not wide, though, and even in the lamplight you can see the dark crevices under each.

“Can you promise me something?” you almost couldn’t hear his voice that seemed to be as quiet as the wind and close enough to the silence that wanted to cover the both of you like a fuzzy blanket. It’s your turn to hum as a response, watching his tired expression as he blinks through a daze. He’s cute, like always, but there’s a bit of weight to his voice that you just can’t place.

“When I come through your window at night, will you take care of me?”

 _There_ , you think, placing the instability in his voice that was more than a tired mind. It’s something that’s more than a yawn or a slip in his cockiness. It’s the sound of fear, and how could you not know? Just minutes ago you were staring at the clock afraid for the worst, and how else did you feel at the end of every night when Ben fell off the face of the earth and you were unsure he would actually return? He had his promises, but what more could you mean when the entire world was at stake?

But it’s the same for him, you realize, even if your detrimental world is mastering a chem test and finishing calculus homework; he needed his promises with you, because what else would bring him back down to earth?

You kneel in front of him now, sleepy eyes to sleepy eyes, and kiss the top of his forehead.  
“I promise.” you whisper against his skin, and where his lips lightly touch your wrist you can feel a smile form wider than before. As you get up to find the bandages you note the time as if it’s a seal to the deal made between you, him, and the walls of your room—2:10 AM.


End file.
